


A Nice Girl

by prodigalsanyo



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: F/M, Medical Kink, Not Canon Compliant, Workplace Sex, butt stuff, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:53:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24819457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prodigalsanyo/pseuds/prodigalsanyo
Summary: “I’ll call you, Bright.  Give you a month.  If you pick up, be ready to negotiate how far you want to go.  I prefer partners who do what they’re told,” says Edrisa.  She puts her hand over his throat, her forefinger and thumb squeezing lightly.  “Do you understand?”“Yes,” says Malcolm.  A look of absolute sin crosses his features.  “Yes, Doctor.”
Relationships: Malcolm Bright & Edrisa Tanaka, Malcolm Bright/Edrisa Tanaka
Comments: 9
Kudos: 22





	A Nice Girl

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PussNHikingBoots](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PussNHikingBoots/gifts).



> Based on this prompt: Edrisa giving Malcolm a “Medical examination” right there in the morgue, sexy-style. As long as Malcolm is okay with it, because consent is sexy.
> 
> Many thanks to PussNHikingBoots for this cute prompt!

Edrisa rolls out a chrome tier of the body fridge where a recently identified floater lies. Despite the cyan blue tinged complexion, beauty is preserved in her cheekbones and long neck. The dead woman’s hair clumps like yellow grass taken by the winter.

The dead woman is no one to Edrisa. The body is no different than the tragic young things that the city churns out on the regular, but Edrisa takes up vigil as though the dead woman is the first lost daughter waiting to be claimed by whoever will have her. What pops into Edrisa’s head, of all things, is poetry from a grainy film.

“Sweets to the sweet. Farewell! I thought I’d be tossing flowers on your bed, not on your grave,” says Edrisa. She’s admittedly stilted, almost stingy, when it comes to giving away her true feelings. But Edrisa can freely share gently borrowed words.

“Oh, damn three times, damn ten times the evil man whose wicked deed deprived you of your ingenious mind…”

Edrisa leaps out of her skin when a young man answers, gaining unexpected entry within the quiet sanctum; he brings life to verse and fragrance to breath. Malcolm treads lightly and when he is close, floral notes enfold Edrisa, fanning out like a bouquet.

“Hold off burying her until I’ve caught her in my arms once more,” recites Malcolm. His bottom lip trembles. He captures her forgiveness with one look, the cold lights revealing where grief cuts him deeply, another mesmerizing facet of cyan blue.

His right hand hovers near the dead woman’s clumped hair, closer than what Edrisa tolerates. 

“Bright! Don’t.” Edrisa instinctively blocks Malcolm. 

“I know. I’m too close but only when it’s too late,” says Malcolm. His fingers latch onto the life lines of her palm, gripping more tenaciously when Edrisa’s other hand pushes the metal tier bearing his deceased lover further into the body fridge.

“Let go, Bright,” says Edrisa.

“I did let her go when she told me to. Look what happened. If I hadn’t given up easily. If I had stayed close when it mattered. How can letting go be the right move now?” Malcolm holds onto the handle, pulling against Edrisa.

“I mean, let go of my hand. It’s bad enough that I was flirting with her boyfriend,” says Edrisa, grimacing.

“Ex-boyfriend,” says Malcolm.

“I’m sorry. I really had no idea,” says Edrisa. “Have you contacted her family?”

When he hesitates, his hand slackens. Edrisa pushes harder at the tier, sliding the body all the way in and shutting the door. She steps into the empty space and hugs him.

“I only know about her sister, sort of,” says Malcolm.

“Have you met her? She would appreciate the call or hearing from someone who knew Eve,” says Edrisa. Malcolm surprises her when his arms tighten around her shoulders.

“Bright?” Edrisa pats his back with uncertainty. She doesn’t understand how she went from being the only chick who didn’t _know_ to the one who feels the sobs heaving his chest. “Oh, Bright.”

Edrisa reconsiders what Bright has told her. “How exactly do you sort of know her sister?”

She sits him down in her office and plies him with a hot beverage, jasmine in a tea bag, sweetened with rock sugar. Edrisa listens and withholds judgment about who broke up with who and how; because a young woman lies stone dead.

“Gil gave me time to look into the circumstances of her death, but that may not be his call to make. The truly guilty party in Eve’s assassination will insure that her death is ruled a suicide. Looking for the pawn who drowned her is a mistake.” Her “I <3 Medical Examiners” mug warms his hands.

“Is there no one who will come for her?” asks Edrisa. “If the Surgeon murdered her sister, who would bury her?”

“Her adopted parents, the Blanchards, are deceased. An old couple when they adopted her; their deaths were an impetus for her to practice in New York and continue her search. Had they lived, she would have rooted down in North Carolina to look after them. Family motivated Eve.”

Malcolm’s hair falls over his wrinkled brow; he looks more appealing than normal. Edrisa has never seen him without the style gel. 

“Eve was friends with my mother, but there’s things about her life that she only shared with me. When people find out that she’s adopted, she just tells them that her mother died when she was nine years old. There’s more to it. Amelia Sanders was a victim of domestic abuse. Their dad found them. He was drunk. The poor woman opened the door for him despite the restraining order. Eight in ten murderers who have killed a family member are male.”

“So, no, Edrisa. Unless I step up, there’s no one who will make arrangements. It’s on me now to oversee her funeral and I’ll profile everyone who attends… Then, I will figure out who had her killed.” Malcolm rises too quickly and tea slops onto the linoleum.

“Bright? Bright, are you going home?” asks Edrisa. Her heart is pounding for his sake, like she’s watching her friend play a stacked game.

“Yes?” he says.

“Where are you actually going?” Her keys clink in her hand. She has more bonus cards for food markets than actual keys on her lanyard. 

“I’m going to a friend’s,” says Malcolm.

“It’s bad luck to speak lies in front of the departed,” says Edrisa, folding her arms and tapping her tennis shoes.

“I’m going to Eve’s where I can write up her obituary. If you have recommendations for a funeral home, I’ll take ‘em. I need to announce her death and make it as public as possible,” says Malcolm.

“You’re not breaking in, are you?” says Edrisa.

“I have her spare key,” says Malcolm, his gaze evasive.

“I’ll take you where you need to go,” says Edrisa, sighing. “Someone should know where you are. Bright, if you get murdered, I will never forgive you!”

She parks her Hyundai and watches Malcolm shiver on the curb. After second and third thoughts, Edrisa hops out of her car and pays for two hour parking on her mobile app. Eve’s apartment is modern, uncluttered, with neat lines softened by lilac colors and small floral prints. 

“You don’t have to,” Malcolm insists.

“I was planning to get takeout for dinner instead of cooking. I’ll do delivery instead.” Edrisa stands at the doorframe of the bedroom and scrolls through a Chinese dinner menu. 

Malcolm lies on a pristine bed. Edrisa looks up when he sighs loudly and calls her name. “Edrisa! Can you come here for a second?”

He strips out of his coat and his suit jacket, an imploring facial expression not quite synced with his welcoming body language. He settles comfortably on the bed, his legs bent and spread. His weight is on one elbow as he beckons to Edrisa.

Edrisa sits on the edge and freezes up as Malcolm coils an arm around her waist. He brushes her hair out of her ear and whispers, “We’re being watched, maybe recorded. Lie here with me. Please. Do you trust me?”

Edrisa lets him pull her forward until she’s on her side, her hair splayed on floral pillows. Malcolm puts his face into her shoulder and rolls them over. His hand moves her wrist so that she is patting his tussled hair. It’s sleek and rich, warm where her fingers instinctively dig in.

“Watch the ceiling. The glare on your glasses should hide where you’re looking, but don’t stare too long,” says Malcolm.

Edrisa spots the pinprick hole. He’s moving her palm to the silken back of his waistcoat.

“Bright, this isn’t right,” says Edrisa, swallowing through her nerves. He feels great, everything smells like flowers and coconut. Her thoughts are scrambled while her parts are responding to Malcolm’s chest pressing her into the mattress.

“You like me. You like me enough to keep going,” says Malcolm. “I’m blocking the camera from getting a head on view of your face. It’s okay. You’re helping me.”

“Ooh. I’ve read about this in manga. This is like being undercover,” says Edrisa, smiling weakly.

“Good thinking, Dr. Tanaka! Get under the covers,” says Malcolm. He streams music from his phone.

Her glasses fog up from how much warmth they generate in bed when Malcolm pulls the covers above their heads. Edrisa removes her glasses and hooks them into her pants pocket. Malcolm shuffles inward, both of their shins pressing as they sink together.

“This is perfect. I can use this. Whoever’s watching thinks that I’m the cheating scumbag boyfriend and that I haven’t heard about her death yet. The worse of a person I am, the less likely my movements are to be tracked.”

Malcolm holds her hands, fisted in tension, from the thrill of being pulled into his insanity.

“This looks bad, Bright. I’m really not the kind of girl who lets herself get used,” says Edrisa. She shakes him off and clambers on top, putting his hands on either side of his head.

“You misread me. In every arrangement, whether it’s for an extended time or if it’s for one night, one hour, I’m the one in charge,” says Edrisa. “Do what you have to, for Eve. She deserves better than what happened to her.”

“What if I can’t catch the person who did this to her?” asks Malcolm. “At least, not immediately. I could be in the shit for the long run. Looking for her sister. Conducting my search obtusely to avoid drawing attention to myself before I learn the truth. Sleeping with the medical examiner formalizing reports of her death might not be my smartest move.” Malcolm licks his lips and bites down. His pulse quickens; Edrisa can feel his elevated heartbeat on his right wrist.

“I’ll call you, Bright. Give you a month. If you pick up, be ready to negotiate how far you want to go. I prefer partners who do what they’re told,” says Edrisa. She puts her hand over his throat, her forefinger and thumb squeezing lightly. “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” says Malcolm. A look of absolute sin crosses his features. “Yes, Doctor.”

* * *

Edrisa shuts off her workstation when she’s finally honest with herself about how very little she’s accomplished this late in her shift. Her favorite technician is on vacation, as is the forensic pathologist who supervises her work. When she calls Malcolm, he indicates that he is on his way.

She wears a thin rayon blouse, something cheap, cool to the touch, and lightly colored. The blouse is tucked into her high waist trousers secured by black suspenders with a thick red stripe in the center. She changes out of her tennis shoes into blush pink heels. Lastly, but most importantly, Edrisa pulls on a crisp white lab coat. Her electric kettle contains boiled water for her tea. The morgue is spic and span. 

Malcolm appears over caffeinated but Edrisa knows that he avoids coffee which heightens his anxiety. His windbreaker hangs open. Edrisa skims her hands beneath the weatherproof lapels, her eyes half lidded as she feels the rope corded beneath a gray T-shirt. She dips her hand inside the back of his jogging pants and pulls hard on the rope knotted against the crevice of his ass until Malcolm groans and stands on the balls of his feet.

“Hello, Bright. How’s my favorite patient today?”

“I need my fix, Doctor Tanaka.” 

He shrugs off the windbreaker, petulantly letting it fall to the floor when Edrisa takes her hands from his ass. 

“Poor you. Luckily, I can treat you,” says Edrisa. She strokes under the front of his shirt. The peach fuzz on his belly is so plush and soft under her palm. Her fingers splay under the rope tightened around his pecs, thumbs rubbing circles around his nipples. Edrisa pulls the rope, bringing him lower as she lifts her face for a leisurely kiss. Malcolm’s stubble prickles her upper lip. When their mouths part, Edrisa asks, “Now how will you pay for my special attention?”

She bites his lower lip before Malcolm can answer, tugging and sucking his lips to make them swell into the prettiest pink.

“Take what you want, Doctor. Make me pay,” says Malcolm. His nose and the tips of his ears are flushed.

“Hands on your head,” orders Edrisa. She sees the dark body hair running down his abs, bisected by white nylon rope. Edrisa pulls at the elastic band of his jogging pants, stroking his lean hairy legs, before she helps him step out of the pooled mesh and polyester. Then he’s barefoot on the sanitized floor without his caramel brown loafers.

His cock presses the hem of his gray T-shirt. Thin ropes are looped along the base of his cock, more of it loosely coiled around his balls. The pressure on his cock keeps him half-hard. Edrisa pulls shears from her lab coat, running the tip of her cold shears at an angle upwards on his thigh. She cuts his shirt from his body, dragging each snip, revealing the knotted clusters which form diamonds and triangles. He looks even more gorgeous from behind. The white nylon draws the eye to his beautiful spine, shining in the lush shadows between his ass cheeks.

Edrisa pulls a non-toxic blue marker from her pocket and writes SICK LITTLE BRAT on his ass for him to enjoy later. She signs her prognosis with a flourish and seals it with a bright red kiss. He shivers again when Edrisa tugs the rope, manipulating the plug buried inside him until he’s dribbling scented mango lube.

“Spread your legs and bend over,” directs Edrisa. She swallows from how much her mouth waters in anticipation. His back muscles ripple in a sensual flow of tense lines and smooth contours. The outline of his brown hair lights up like a halo, at odds with the intensely profane look in his pretty eyes when he watches Edrisa over his shoulder.

She spanks him. “No peeking! You’re being a naughty patient, Bright.” Edrisa stifles a moan each time she lands a good strike. When she hits him just right, Malcolm’s ass tightens and sucks in the anal plug.

Edrisa pulls a rectangular plastic case from her white pocket which contains her stainless steel Wartenberg pinwheel. It’s a little metal rolling pin with rows of protruding teeth. She runs it lightly along Malcolm’s spine, mindful not to draw blood. 

"Does that hurt, Bright? Am I hurting you?”

Malcolm stares from beneath his eyebrows, loose hair shifting and fluttering on his lashes as he shakes his head. He's almost cherubic as he goads Edrisa. “No, Doctor. Can you? Go a bit harder.”

Edrisa applies more pressure when she glides the rolling spikes onto the curve of his ass and the backs of his upper legs. “You’re lucky I’m not doing your feet today. Your soles are quite sensitive.”

Malcolm gasps and spreads his legs when he feels the cold prickle of pointed steel on his inner thighs. Red dots mark where Edrisa sharply teases him. Edrisa stows the tool in the hard case, leaving it open on the floor in case she wants it again. Then she grips the nylon rope looped over his hips and grips the anal plug, pulling until his rim puffs outward before spinning and thrusting the buried head of the anal plug towards the base of Malcolm’s prick.

“Oh! Oh fuck. Fuck me, Doctor,” huffs Malcolm, when Edrisa drives the unassuming toy into his P spot. When Malcolm melts into the edge of the autopsy table, Edrisa kneels and extracts the plug in a messy and wet pop. She drops the plug into her square white pocket. Then she lifts and pulls apart his cheeks and tongues his gaped hole. Watches him throw his head back, his brown hair falling almost as far as the middle of his back. Edrisa yanks the longer layers of his hair as she eats him up. Malcolm tastes like heated syrup, loose around her tongue and soft between her teeth. 

The tip of her tongue flicks along the red lines in his skin marked by the ropes. Kissing the muscles of his back jumping and twitching from her mouth, from the smooth glide of her rayon blouse. She cups his balls which are flushed dark where they spill out of the rope. Edrisa nibbles on the back of his neck, pressing her nose into the back of his skull, her uneven breaths warming his hair. She fingers the rope on his body while she pulls at the clasp of her trousers. About five thick inches of rubber pokes out. Edrisa grinds her crotch into Malcolm’s ass.

“On a scale of 1 to 10, how do you feel, Bright? How are my three fingers inside you?” Edrisa sucks on her lip, dripping in her panties from how much her pussy throbs. She can’t resist the smell of his sweat shimmering all over the symmetry of his physique. Edrisa is addicted as she fervently tastes his neck, his shoulders, his back while he opens to her touch and rides out the slow stretch.

“Fix me, Doctor. I just, fuck, I’m in pain every day. Ten out of ten, it never stops. I’m so, so broken. Make me better,” begs Malcolm. He’s too hot, how he moves in the palm of her hand. When she twists his nipples, his voice shatters into a thousand notes echoing in the cool and sterile planes of the mortuary.

When Malcolm’s suitably prepped, Edrisa spanks him where she wrote her name. She lets him catch a breather in the brief time it takes to wheel her computer chair into position and to loosen the strap on and remove the dildo. He curves like a bow, spreads bare ass on the upholstered seat, his knees hooked over her armrests. For each inch of her purple dong sinking deep, Edrisa rewards him with her mouth. Every time his lashes flutter, Edrisa tightens the furl of her lips and presses her damp knuckles into the flesh between his balls and the globes of his ass. When the thick toy fills him, Edrisa rubs his legs and his torso. Drops of blood bead up and trickle along his pale skin, where the Wartenberg pinwheel pricked his inner thigh. 

Edrisa pulls out a foil packet. Malcolm raises his brow at her when she rolls a hot pink condom down his length. She unfastens the suspenders and yanks her trousers to mid thigh, squatting onto his lap. Her coat is bunched around her middle but she can feel the knotted rope through her clothes. She slings her arm around the back of her chair, her petite body half twisted as they taste each other. She licks his dimple while he rubs deep and slow circles around her navel and lower on her groin. When he pinches and pulls her clit, Edrisa retaliates by reaching between his legs and grinding her fist into the purple dong. His hips snap, wet fingers digging into the seam of Edrisa’s trousers, as he comes.

“Edrisa,” Malcolm whispers into her sweat soaked neck. The warmth in his tone flows through her nerve endings, suffusing her in euphoria. He touches her under her blouse, massaging and fondling her small breasts. The lights are a little too bright in her vision when his arms push aside her clothes and cradles her waist. Affection always extends the afterglow. Edrisa savors the sweet thrum as they’re joined. 

Then she takes care of him, helping him tuck his legs into his pants, careful not to pull the hair on his body too harshly when he’s shivering in the cold mortuary. Her fingers caress his torso as he relaxes, his body naturally pushing out the purple dildo. Edrisa removes her white coat and drapes it on the back of her computer chair. The coat sags from the weight of Edrisa’s playthings. Edrisa stands in front of Malcolm and cards her fingers through his hair while he drinks hot ginger tea sweetened with honey.

“I’m fine, Edrisa. But you can go ahead and ask me,” says Malcolm. He licks his lips sticky from her honey. His gaze lingers on Edrisa’s stained trousers and her crooked suspenders.

“The psych stuff is seriously not my wheelhouse. Are you okay with how that scene played out, Bright?”

“What’s not to love, friend? That I’m moaning for a doctor when you’re fucking my ass? Are you wondering how many of my get offs are shaped by my serial killer father?” Malcolm asks, waving his hand.

Edrisa chokes on her spit. Malcolm laughs, apologizing as he offers her the remainder of his tea to drink.

“One would assume that you would avoid medical kink because of the Surgeon’s abuses.”

“You respect my limits. No stethoscopes. No calling me boy. We don’t do the costumes with the gown and scrubs. They’re props anyways. For beginners to break free of acceptable normality. You use the white coat to keep your tools handy. I know what's underneath the coat. I’ve seen your work. I trust it.”

“Bright, why does it sound like you’re buttering me up before you say goodbye?” says Edrisa.

“I found Eve’s sister,” Malcolm confesses.

“Is she alive?!” blurts Edrisa.

Malcolm shakes his head; he doesn't clarify whether or not the girl lives. The lines on his forehead become more prominent as he dips his face, elongating the shadows which pervade the depths of his blue eyes.

“I have people to protect. Just know that I’m doing what I must, to keep my promises.” He's looking at the body fridge, the door which closed behind Eve.

“Are you skipping town?” asks Edrisa.

“I’m leaving the NYPD. Gil’s letting me tell you guys my own way,” answers Malcolm. Fuck, she already misses him. His submission more beautiful within his bindings.

“What are you going to do?“ she asks. She’s not smooth or suave enough to wish him best of luck or warm regards. Edrisa is the chick who’s the last one to know. Her world tilts with her lover entrusting her with intimate knowledge before anyone else.

“I always had a safety net within the Bureau and with police. After confronting some demons from my past, I’m making a clean break. Starting Monday, I’m changing jobs. There’s no going back,” says Malcolm, weary.

“Why are you telling me?” says Edrisa.

“How many mysteries wash up in your inner sanctum, Edrisa? The dead speak to you and you vouch safe what you learn. This is your final place. You’re here until you’re not, right?”

“Yeah, that fits the profile,” says Edrisa. Her glasses crook as she wipes the corner of her eyes. Malcolm pulls her down with him and she can’t help but hold on tighter. She holds on to him tighter so she can smack him real good. “But you listen up, Bright! You don’t have to be a dead man for me to keep your secrets. Get it?!”

“I got it. Thank you,” says Malcolm, sincere in his gratitude. His steady hand covers hers.

“Good. And congratulations on your new job! How exactly did you land it? Give me deets,” gushes Edrisa. The mortuary is dead. They have time before they sneak out.

Malcolm smiles wryly. Later on, she’ll understand his cryptic expression when Malcolm begins to tell her, “Considering what I was offered...well, you don’t say no to a boss like Nicholas Endicott.”

**Author's Note:**

> I love Malcolm and Edrisa, but I don't feel confident about writing their ship since I'm not a medical or a psychology buff lolololol. Thank you for reading!


End file.
